jikan_rpg | [closed] come home with me

Entry tags:

[closed] come home with me

⌛ Who: Scaramouche & Kazuha
⌛ What: Plum blossom date
⌛ When: Early February
⌛ Where: Wakayama
⌛ Warnings: Smooches finally, Smol naked idiots

[It's become commonplace for Scaramouche to find himself over at Kazuha's home, ever since the samurai had gotten one of his own. His visits so frequent, often spending the night, that he's begun leaving things there - no reason to carry them back and forth even if teleportation was something he was capable of. Given what had happened the past month sleeping isn't something he often allows himself when he does end up staying, though Kazuha has managed to get him to do so a few times. The concern of what would happen if he had another nightmare far too present in his thoughts most nights.

So when Kazuha asks him to visit he thinks nothing of it, the request to bring more makeup than what he had laying around the man's home only garnering slight suspicion. Not once since he's known the other Inazuman has he ever seen him wear any, so for the samurai to suddenly ask is odd. Perhaps he was going somewhere later in the day? The Harbinger can't think of much reason past that, though he can't see much reason why the man would suddenly need to wear any to begin with.

For once when he arrives at the small village in Wakayama he doesn't immediately busy himself with climbing the tree in Kazuha's yard to enter through the window. For once he knocks like a normal person, waits patiently for Kazuha to open the door and let him inside. The neighbours are likely staring from that fact alone, though he doesn't bother looking back to see.

He takes a moment to slip his zori off, before turning pointedly towards the samurai. Hair recently cut, drawing all the more attention to the gaze he has fixed on the samurai.]

Since when do you wear makeup?

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[Kazuha imagined their first kiss, should they have the opportunity, as something tender and sweet beneath the petals of the plum trees. The soft, uncertain brush of lips as he asks for silent permission, and then the chaste meeting spreading warmth in his chest. It's a very romantic daydream of his, one he'd meticulously planned for against most of his usual ways of conducting himself.

He at least got the plum tree part of this fantasy correct.

He's lucky that he doesn't get the wind knocked out of him when they tumble down, because Scaramouche steals the air from his lungs with his kiss. Hours of preparation are undone in an instant— his kimono is tugged loose, smudged with mud as he lands in the soft earth, his hair disheveled. He even loses a geta. Yet Kazuha can't find it in himself to mind, his lips curling upward in a smile as his lips press back into the kiss, stunned surprise and anxiety melting into elation.

It's not the soft and tender kiss he imagined, he might taste a little bit of blood, but it's still good. More than good, because they've never been perfect together as friends, so the little bit of hurt is rather fitting. Kazuha tempers Scaramouche's hunger, opening to his fierce kissing, but he inserts his own sweetness, his free hand raising to cup the other man's cheek. Fingers stroke over flawless skin, feeling the heat of his cheeks. This is worth it all— his loneliness fading.

The tragedy that one of them is only mortal, and if he didn't need the air that he finds such affinity with in his lungs, then he might never part from the doll's lips. Kazuha draws away only to breathe, dizzy from the lack of air and just dazed by the happenings, their lips making an audible (embarrassing) little 'smeck' as they part. He hovers close, reluctant to let Scaramouche draw back far.]

I'm open to learning.

[He can't help a teasing little smile on his face, his fingers brushing strands of Scaramouche's hair back behind his ear. He dips in, taking a kiss for himself this time— much more like how he imagined. He baits more kisses with small pecks, light and sweet against the corners of Scaramouche's lips.]

[The immortal chases each kiss as though it will be their last, knuckles white from how tightly he's holding the kimono, abandoning all thought to simply experience the moment for what it was. The gentle way Kazuha touches him, smiles against him. It feels like an eternity before the urgency behind his actions begins to fade, the samurai's response beginning to sink in. As Scaramouche realizes that he's yet to be pushed away, no signs of regret, no indication that this was a mistake.

He places a kiss to the samurai's jaw, light, gentle, before he pulls back in attempts to process everything. What he's just done, everything Kazuha had done for him. There's a thrill behind it all, muddled in with the fear. Scaramouche finds himself wanting to simply kiss him again, eyes looking over just how dishevelled the fall had made him, all their work so easily swept aside. He can't imagine he looks much better, laying with the other Inazuman in the dirt.

Finally the immortal lets go, fingers instead finding some loose strands of Kazuha's hair that had pulled free, twirling them as a soft smile spreads across his face.]

Why is it that even when you dress up, you can't keep from making yourself a mess.

[As the kissing slows to an eventual stop, it gives the samurai's brain a moment to catch up with him. His heart beats quickly in his chest, like hummingbird wings, caught between excitement and shock. He's still a bit breathless when Scaramouche draws back, curling his fingers around his hair, and Kazuha's eyes watch his face as he just spends a moment drawing a few heavy breaths into his lungs.

Oh, he's so pretty.

Kazuha's willpower wanes again after a moment and the vagrant leans in, pressing another light kiss against the other Inazuman's lips, then another. He'd probably not stop for a while if he lets himself, so he forces himself to draw back again, his head flopping against the soft earth.]

Would you believe me if I said it wasn't my fault this time?

[A certain immortal was to blame for the mess they've made right now. Though Kazuha takes full blame for the way he places a hand on Scaramouche's hip, rolling him over so his back is flat on the earth, one of the samurai's arms caging him in as he leans over him. His smile is warm, affectionate as he looks down at him.]

I take it that the feeling is mutual.

[There's a small moment where the immortal is given the chance to simply watch as the man catches his breath, appreciate how he looks now that feelings have been laid out. Even in a less than ideal state the effort put in is more than perfect to him, fingers idly playing with the samurai's hair. This wasn't how he expected his day to go, fully prepared to help Kazuha with what he'd asked and then be on his way. Even with his hesitation, his fears, he can't find much fault with how things have currently turned out.

When the samurai decides their lips have been apart for too long Scaramouche easily reciprocates, pressing into each kiss with fervor. Was this how kissing was supposed to be? A constant desire for more, craving to be close with no concern over vulnerabilities. He can't decide if it was better or worse that he'd allowed so few in his life until now.]

That sounds like an excuse, but I'm willing to let it slide this time.

[There's a teasing tone to his voice, amusement written all over his face. Given he's more than aware as to why Kazuha's outfit no longer looks pristine, as his hair struggles to free itself from the bun. It's not something the Harbinger would outright admit to being wholly responsible for, regardless of it they both knew it.

The mortal rolls him over and he allows it without fuss, hand gently moving through his hair until it settles at the back of the man's neck. There's little way he could say that his feelings are not at the very least similar in nature.]

You're smart enough to figure that out on your own, aren't you?

[In the end, if his appearance was enjoyed still by Scaramouche, that was really all that mattered. The immortal wasn't wrong that the preparation was unlike him, how he typically cared very little about what his appearance was like as long as it was practical enough for bladework. He's fairly certain the judgement from the other was simply out of jealousy at another imagined paramour.

How silly it was for Scaramouche to think there was possibly someone else. Only his feelings for Diluc come close, but he'd made his choice clear to the nobleman just a few short weeks ago.

He stares down him quietly for just a little longer, drinking in the sight of the other man beneath him. Kazuha had spent weeks thinking about this, but his thoughts had made so many plans in case he was rejected. In the face of returned affection, he finds himself a little lost. Aimless.

It's kind of nice.]

Maybe I want to hear you say you're mine.

[His. Kazuha has never been a possessive, jealous type. His nature as a wanderer was never conductive to to it, when staying in one spot is never in his plans. Months ago, he'd jokingly teased Tartaglia that he doesn't keep 'pets' as a reference to his tendency of non-attachment, that his lifestyle isn't conductive to romance.

The mortal brushes his fingers against Scaramouche's cheek, then laughs lightly as a tiny bit of dirt smudges against his skin. The warmth of his laugh morphs into an even more joyful smile, and he leans his head down, kissing against the opposite cheek.

It's brief, and when he pulls back the expression on his face is much more teasingly flirty.]

Hmm, so, you doing anything later?

[Somehow Scaramouche finds himself content with this, laying in the dirt, simply enjoying the mere presence of someone he'd grown terrifyingly close to. It's soothing in a way and he thinks he's beginning to understand why he so often desires the samurai's company, that it involves more than just the man's importance. Kazuha's managed to carve out a hole in the wall he so often surrounds himself with, slotting out a place in his life with ease.

Nails gently graze against the samurai's neck, all of this was something the Harbinger would have never expected, would never have really allowed himself to think. Whether it will turn out of the best in the long run he doesn't know, but he finds himself wanting to try. He wants, so why shouldn't he allow himself this after all the years alone.]

Yours... You want me that much?

[Hearing those words helps place just what Kazuha wants to get from this, something more than the friendship he had so much trouble admitting to a few months ago. That the other Inazuman cares for him more than just wanting to kiss him, the mention of partners from their earlier conversation ringing in his head and burning colour into his face.

The full realization of what is being proposed settles in his mind, clear, away from the fear and excitement.]

What does that make you then?

[It's not what the samurai has asked to hear, but for now it's all he offers, allowing himself to consider a proper answer as Kazuha places a kiss to his cheek. As he smears dirt on his face and he can't even offer up more than a barely irritated huff.

This particular flirting he catches, difficult not to given the expression on the samurai's face, their current positions. Scaramouche can't help but roll his eyes at the attempt, pulling the man down again to press a soft kiss to his lips.]

My clothes are at your house. I can't go anywhere yet.

[Through time spent with the immortal, Kazuha's learned that Scaramouche is rarely direct with his speech. This should annoy him, as the samurai preferred ways of conversing that left little to interpretation, but it's just one of the things that endears Scaramouche to him now. He no longer finds it so troublesome. The question still makes him pause, his expression looking thoughtful.

Of course he wants him. He's wanted him for some time now, tormented by his feelings of desire and longing. He understands what poets and writers of older were speaking of when they wrote of wanting.

He closes his eyes briefly, just feeling the scrape of Scaramouche's fingers light on is neck. It feels good, his former anxiety almost all gone in favor of basking in the feeling of being wanted back, even if the other man hasn't said it. His actions say enough.]

The luckiest man in Nippon. [He can't help the little tease as he opens his eyes.] But hopefully, your boyfriend.

[It's a blunt way of putting it. Kazuha didn't want to leave anything unclear about what he wanted from Scaramouche. More than friends.

It's whim he decides to emphasize his affection, taking one of the doll's hands and kissing the knuckles, before he presses it into his loosened kimono against the warm beat of his heart. The thing that the samurai said had been stolen-- accurate in a way, since Kazuha had never meant to give it to someone else.]

You aren't naked, Scaramouche. You can leave any time you please. I'm not stopping you.

[Blunt works much better for the immortal, makes the job of figuring out just what Kazuha was thinking, feeling, much easier. The term is one he could have grasped on his own given everything that's been said, but hearing the samurai say it settles it more in reality.

What Kazuha desires from him is a relationship, romantic in nature.

He's already made his decision, though not yet put it to words, and Scaramouche wonders if he even should. He knows nothing of being in a relationship, knows little of if he'd even be capable of the emotions the other Inazuman would want to get out of it - he doubts he's capable of everything. Kazuha doesn't even know that he lacks a heart.

The temptation of feeling wanted is a particularly large draw, and that the trust he's placed forth hasn't been broken only further adds reason to his own wants. Though the mortal is perhaps a bit too unnecessarily sweet with his actions and words.]

Mm, trying rather hard aren't you. I suppose I could be then... Yours.

[The word comes out soft as his hand is taken, pressed up against Kazuha's chest, a mix of emotions as the Harbinger takes a moment to simply focus on the beat of the man's heart. He lacks one of his own, will possibly never have one no matter how hard he tries, so was it fair if he stole one from another? Did he even care when the samurai was offering it up willingly, even if it wouldn't be the same as having his own.

He should tell him, warn Kazuha that despite what he feels or thinks he feels he may never be able to fully give him what he wants. But he's never been so selfless, easier to just take what he wants, and he does want.]

I never said I wanted to leave. Simply that I have no intention of doing so without my clothes.

[In truth, Kazuha wasn't expecting much from Scaramouche. It was usually the best way of dealing with the doll-- to expect little, and be pleasantly surprised instead. He wasn't like most other people. Kazuha finds him irritatingly (pleasantly) unpredictable.

His. It was more than what he could ask for. The samurai's bright smile could light up a night sky. After all the tragedy that's followed him, finally he feels... he feels good.]

Ah, is that so? So if I hide your clothes like a tennyo of legend, you'd stay until you found them?

[Kazuha leans in, kissing Scaramouche hard and passionately, with a fierce hunger that nearly matches the way the other kissed him not long before. He thinks he'll never get enough of kissing him, that the doll could give him everything he has and he'd want for more of him. His fondness is like a double edged sword- as his it grows, so does his desire.

It's not his place to want to keep him. Everyone is entitled to be free and Scaramouche is maybe more free than others. He could hardly bear to clip his 'strings' and tie him down to him, just as Kazuha would despise returning to a life indoors. But... right now, he wants to keep him close by.]

[The way Kazuha smiles at him, at his agreement to the term placed to what their relationship was, what the samurai wished it to be, is something the immortal decides he wants to see more often. It instills a similar sort of enjoyment in him that the sight of fear and pain often do. Something pleasant and easily readable.

The idea of Kazuha hiding his clothes just to keep him around is endearing. A annoying gesture if the samurai ever did go through with it, but endearing all the same. To be wanted to such an extent is something he doesn't think he's ever truly experienced, doesn't know how he'll handle it over time, but for now it feels good. For now he allows himself to laugh, not concerning himself with the possibility of abandonment down the line.]

I could borrow yours, but I may have to stay until I find mine. Maples don't suit me nearly as much as they do you.

[There's more he could say on the matter, more he could tease back if he wanted, but the option is taken from him as the samurai steals another kiss from him. His hold on the man shifts as he leans up into it, all too willing to return that hunger, teeth scraping over his bottom lip.

If this was an example of just what would change between them, Scaramouche thinks he will manage fine.]

[Scaramouche is gorgeous— even the way he leans up to meet his kiss seems elegant, his neck all too pale and slender. Perfect for marking. The other's bit of roughness only seems to help seize him with the desire to do exactly that. It's with a shuddering breath when they finally part again, the samurai's lips flushed pink from the eagerness of their kissing.

He smiles at him again, but it's far more mischievous than his smile before.

He slips a hand beneath Scaramouche's head, lifting it up from the dirt, but then he slides it just slightly downward, making his back and neck arch back. Kazuha drags his tongue down the pale skin, kissing him sloppily, before he fixes his mouth down and sucks hard at it.

The samurai knows from experience that this is uncomfortable slightly. His new boyfriend will just have to forgive him for how pleased he looks when he draws back and eyes the cherry red spot he left.]

No, they don't, but red looks very good on you.

[Being rough in moments like this is something Scaramouche is all too used to - from his own actions, from those not too afraid to even get near him. He doesn't expect it from the samurai, a man almost always so gentle, but it's not something he's against. Not in this situation.

The smile tips him off that Kazuha is thinking of something, though of what he's not all that certain of. The way the mortal lifts him doesn't offer any clues until a tongue meets his neck, eliciting a small gasp before he finds his breath stolen as a mark is worked into his skin, fingers curling into hair.

The immortal's face feels as though it's much too hot when the samurai pulls away, eyes fixed on his neck. He can only imagine how marred his skin will look if he lets the man get away with everything in future.]

You're already insufferable.

[Though he sounds more amused than irritated.]

[Luckily for Scaramouche's tender skin, Kazuha is satisfied with this one mark. He gazes at it for just a little longer, before he finally turns his eyes back to the other man's face, drinking in the sight of his flushed cheeks.]

Ah, but you enjoy it.

[He'd made sure to put that cherry red mark right where people would notice it and he's unrepentant about it. After all, they've spent enough time around each other to know just how terrible the other can be at times.

Kazuha briefly takes the doll's hands, making sure both were secured around his neck, and then he slips his own hands beneath Scaramouche's behind. He sits up, an impressive display of core body strength, and then turns over to sit his new boyfriend in his lap.

Just how he seems to like.]

It seems like I was blessed with good luck after all. And you were so concerned about me. Though, might I have detected a hint of jealousy?

That is debatable.

[The immortal can't deny that Kazuha's personality had kept him around for this long, that he wouldn't desire his company if he didn't enjoy it in some sense - teasing and all. Annoying at times, but never enough for it to push him away, only drawing him in further, be it to enact revenge or force more desirable attention. It had only been his own conflicted feelings that he'd attempted to distance himself when they'd started to get too close, the samurai's temperament never the cause.

The single mark seems to satisfy the other Inazuman enough as he's spared any further, instead being pulled upright and repositioned into the samurai's lap. He won't have to make the decision on if he wishes to continue allowing the marks or not.

Fingers idly return to their gentle scrape against the back of his neck, Scaramouche listening as the mortal has the audacity to claim him jealous.]

Just what do I have to be jealous of?

[Had he been? It would explain some of what he'd been feeling, though he hasn't sorted through them enough to properly place it. Something for another time, after he's sorted through the fact that he's agreed to be in a relationship. That he has a boyfriend.

Scaramouche shakes his head.]

And you have luck for now, but you're pushing it. I had every right to be concerned, you can be quite the moron. Having to listen to you moan if things didn't go well wasn't in my plans.

[Kazuha knows he's pushing Scaramouche a little, so that's why he leans in and nuzzles against his ear, placing a few sweet kisses against the blush warmed ridge of it.]

Someone else who has my attention.

[One last small kiss is placed against the side of the immortal's cheek before Kazuha leans back again to look at him. His hands slide up, curling around the other man's back in a loose supporting hug. It's mostly for himself-- his knees support Scaramouche far better than his hands.]

Ah, what, are you going to break up with me so soon? I suppose if you control whether I moan or not now.

[That smile of his is very coquettish.]

Oh? And does someone else have your attention?

[The attention to his ear doesn't help quell the flush to his face, though it does work as intended - distracting Scaramouche's thoughts as he focuses on the gentle press of lips against him.

He knows that he's not fond of the idea of losing the samurai's attention when he desires it, something that should be of little issue as he was the one being courted. Perhaps he was jealous, unsure if the feeling would surface again if the mortal showed interest toward anyone else. For now his wishing for things to not work in the man's favour have subsided, pleased that they had, at least in some aspect. A favourable surprise that it was all for him.

If anything this gives him more reason to demand even more of Kazuha's time should the urge ever take him.

It takes a moment for the samurai's words to place explanation for the smile he's given. Realizing his choice of words to have another meaning - entirely thanks to a similar situation a couple months prior.]

That is not what I meant and you are well aware. Even if it is true.

[A hand slides away from the man's neck, carefully trailing along the collar of his kimono. Where a sly grin pulls at his lips, Scaramouch is not cruel enough to tease breaking up after he only just agreed to a relationship, still coming to terms with how all of this worked. The conversation trailing back to the lead-up to this particular outing slowly working through his mind enough that there's one thing that sticks out first.]

Would you care to tell me how I'm insecure?

[He should have probably predicted the question, probably asked carelessly, though it makes the samurai pause for a moment.]

You know I haven't been celebate. There is someone very dear to me.

[He wouldn't lie to Scaramouche even right now, though his comment is vague enough. He can ask more about it if he wanted to-- Kazuha would answer him truthfully. He knows either way if he was going to have to speak with him about his relationships, since he never really shared much about them before, terribly private as he is. It's different now.

The way Scaramouche touches him now is different than he has before. It's one other thing to get used to, like the kissing, though Kazuha hopes he never really does get used to it. There's just something exciting by always being surprised and blessed to be kissed by him. Selfishly he'd much rather focus on his hungry kisses and drinking in the sight of him mud smudged in clothing he'd picked for him, but he doesn't put off his answer for long.

His eyes flick down to the immortal's fingers, then to his face. His hands lace behind his head, stroking fingers through his hair affectionately. Were his hands dirty? Yes, but maybe Scaramouche won't notice.]

You couldn't see how I might have wanted you even if it was in front of you. I've spent months trying to show you that you mean much to me, but you seem frightened I'll get bored and leave you. And I think, on the other hand, we were meant to meet. The last Kaedehara and the creation of Raiden Ei. We'd not be so easily separated.

[Scaramouche regrets the question almost immediately as it's answered, not actually expecting it to be addressed and certainly not expecting-- competition? He knows Kazuha has been with others, was aware of this before they could even be considered friends. If he had interests elsewhere then why even bother doing all of this for him?]

Someone dear to you.

[The words are repeated slowly, the immortal attempting to make some sense of it, finding his own emotions offer him little assistance in such a matter. His grin completely faded into something more agitated, fingers more nervously picking at fabric than consciously teasing. He doesn't know what to think of this.

It twists that bitter feeling inside him again, what the samurai has likely called out as his jealousy, but what does a being like himself have need for such jealousy. Kazuha was here now, with him - someone better than the rest, made to surpass all mortals. Why does he worry that he'll be cast aside so easily after all that was displayed to him?]

You did no such thing - we've done the same things we've always done. Why would I have any reason to fear your boredom.

[His tone is harsher, even as the other Inazuman combs his fingers through his hair, too preoccupied in his own thoughts to either notice or comment on the state of the samurai's hands. He didn't spend centuries proving himself strong just to be viewed as terrified and insecure by a mortal - even if said mortal was one he cared for as he did.

The way Kazuha words their meeting at least provides a minor shift in thought, though Scaramouche doesn't seem all that focused on it.]

Oh, I thought you said you weren't my samurai.

[It makes a pang of ache stab in his chest to see the smile fall from Scaramouche's face, but Kazuha realizes the moment he said it that it was necessary to be said. Just as he had forged on telling Diluc that he'd chosen to want to be with the Balladeer despite knowing it would upset him, he pushes on know this is a painful truth for Scaramouche.

He plucks the hand from his clothes, sensing his nervous agitation, and brings his knuckles to his lips in a soft kiss. Kazuha keeps his eyes on his, maybe to emphasize that his affections, here, are solely focused on him.]

Is that how you see it? I only do these things for you.

[This again... Kazuha hadn't quite thought of it that way, and though he values his independence, the comment makes him pause with his lips pressed against the immortal's knuckles, holding his hand in his. He looks thoughtful-- he meant that in that their families were drawn to each other, but the role of his ancestors was subservient.

Can love and servitude really exist together? He bucks against the idea slightly, just as he had before. Though... hadn't he decided to give himself to him? Kazuha huffs a small laugh after a moment.]

I don't think I'm ready to call you 'my lord' so soon into our relationship, but I am yours.

Do you?

[The immortal's gaze focuses on the way Kazuha takes his hand, presses his lips against his knuckles, though his mind remains lost in thought. If the samurai had offered him his heart, had it also been offered to another? Was it then even his to claim? His want has not dissipated, he knows he still desires the man the same way he had moments ago, but still he wonders if he's made a mistake. Just how fleeting would this relationship be?

Scaramouche's thoughts drift back to how he'd been viewed all those years ago, the reason he's kept his origins so tightly hidden since. He knows Kazuha doesn't mind what he is, but perhaps yet again it causes issues, makes him not enough. Had the mortal figured it out already, of his lack of a heart, simply ensuring if he could not get everything from this relationship that he could still do so elsewhere.

These things are only done for him, something he doesn't want to doubt.]

...Is it because I'm not human?

[The question slips out, not meant to be asked, and Scaramouche is quick to avert his gaze. Press his forehead against a shoulder so he doesn't have the chance to see an answer he doesn't want.

The idea of being called a lord is startling, causing the Harbinger to further bury his face into the fabric at the man's shoulder. It's not something he expects from any but his subordinates, and calling the man his samurai is only ever meant in jest. Kazuha's clan is no more and he could hardly be considered an actual member of what would be his own family.]

You know I don't mean it. Though 'mine' sounds nice.

Edited 2022-02-26 13:28 (UTC)

[Kazuha's heart sinks, slightly shocked by the sudden question. It was so far from a consideration it seems to come out of nowhere to him. His arms curl tighter around the immortal, leaning his head against his as he buries his face against his shoulder. He rubs his back, trying to soothe him.]

`It feels right to notice all the shiny things about you
About you there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know
With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler
About you many good things come into relation`

[He murmurs the poem against Scaramouche's ear, then reaches up to tuck a few strands of dark hair gently behind the shell. He wouldn't just leave it to a poem, and he pauses for a moment as he tries to find the right words for his feelings.

How he feels about Diluc isn't the same as how he feels about the man in his lap, but he struggles to describe and explain this to him. To someone to must feel the insecurity of inadequacy, to hear there's another who has his affections... He huffs.]

My only regret about your immortality is that I will one day leave you. These moments are fleeting, but I want to spend as many of these moments with you.

[A wave of warmth washes over him as the samurai pulls him closer, gently rubs at his back, the weight of his head against his as a poem is whispered against him. Of course it's a poem of all things, but Scaramouche can't find it in himself to care, shutting his eyes and simply listening to the depths of Kazuha's feelings.

It doesn't solve everything, push away the feeling that constricts his chest in hurt and uncertainty, but it is sweet. If the samurai cared for him wasn't in question, from all that's been displayed, said, he knows it to be true. Still the thoughts linger.

The immortal allows himself a moment to take a breath.]

Who?

[He shouldn't ask, simply move on and focus on how the other Inazuman holds him. How he whispers soft and sweet words on how much he cares. But Scaramouche can't help but want to know, to have a direction for any ire that should build towards whatever worthless human thought themselves worthy of the samurai's time. Towards whatever possible competition he has. Though he finds feels more dread than anger.

Even as Kazuha works at soothing his fears, swallowing his vulnerabilities, and dissuading his thoughts that he may not be enough.

To hear of how fleeting this all was, spoken and given space in reality hurts far more than it should. To think such moments were often things he found amusement in watching. This was all terribly foolish of him to want.

He doesn't wish to think on how short their time may be for long.]

Do your poems normally woo their targets? Rather sweet words if they're all true.

[Of course it's poetry. He's moved to poetry by his emotions, by beautiful things. Kazuha could find inspiration often, though he also was a appreciator of poetry written by others too, not fancying himself as a decent poet.

It's also a bit of a security blanket for himself; he knows he has made the mood of the occasion more dour by speaking honestly. The samurai also knows that more truth will bring Scaramouche no more peace, but he has to answer him, a moment of hesitation later.]

Diluc. He... well, he confessed his affection for me when I told him I wanted to be with you.

[It's a name that Kazuha has mentioned before-- he'd spoken to Scaramouche about his importance to him as a way to rebuff the other man from plotting violence towards him. The immortal's reaction so far does not build him any confidence that there will be any amnesty between the two.

He keeps petting Scaramouche's back, cuddling him in his lap. It may be a little too coddling, but he doesn't think that is such a bad thing right now. He places a kiss against his hair, cheek bumping against some of the tiny maples.]

I could recite more poetry to you about how food gives me no nourishment, hungry as I am for you. [He laughs, very light. Even he's a little embarrassed at himself.] I have been thinking about this since the gala. I realized I wanted more from you then.

[It's a name he's heard before, one that's quickly growing on his nerves.

The man Kazuha had claimed wished him dead, that he'd met when vulnerable and felt nothing but feigned sympathy. When he looks back on that day he wonders if the man had been stalking him, the way he appeared from nowhere, creeping into the trees where he had gone to hide.

A friend to the samurai of more importance than he had first realized, and he can't say he's pleased. Only choosing to confess when Kazuha had already been lost. Did someone so insincere even care for the samurai or was it simply out of whatever hate he held towards him? Scaramouche isn't even sure of what he's done. They'd not met in Teyvat, nor had he been involved in anything to do with Mondstadt.

How much of the mortal's heart did the man hold? How much was left for him, unclaimed before his plans to confess today? Kazuha has wanted him for some time, but why did he need permission, or validation before acting on it?]

Why would that creep need to know that? What right does he have to know anything about me, or you.

[Scaramouche huffs against the other Inazuman's shoulder, shifting slightly in his grip before pushing his face further into the fabric as a kiss lands on his head. More poetry doesn't sound terrible, even as over exaggerated as Kazuha makes it, comparing want to something he needs to avoid an early grave.

To hear that the man has wanted this since the Gala is new, he recalls no indication of this when he was being forced to admit to his feelings. Saw nothing in when they met up since then, always being treated the same as he'd been since they got past the whole attack and theft.]

I won't stop you from reciting more poetry if that is what you want... But you never said anything. At the Gala or afterwards.

[This day not counting.]

Edited 2022-02-27 08:44 (UTC)

[Kazuha meanwhile thinks no such negativity about Diluc; he knew his confession was out of fear of loss, just the same as Scaramouche seems to fear this all the same. His brows knit, bothered by someone he loves being called a 'creep', but there are some things worth fighting about and others not. Diluc likely would not care what a former Fatuus thinks of him.

Perhaps he can coax some tolerance out of the immortal with time, as he doesn't believe the redhead would antagonize him.]

We'd been involved. He had a right to know there was someone else I'm interested in.

[Just as he'd told Scaramouche about this now.

His denial of seeing anything special about anything he does does sort of deflate him though. Kazuha lets out a sigh, his hand patting his slender back, and just pushes his face into the top of the other Inazuman's dark hair. He turns his eyes up, looking at the petals gently swaying in a light breeze.]

I was waiting for the plum blossoms. And wondering if you'd noticed. I hadn't really thought you interested.

Edited 2022-02-27 10:59 (UTC)

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